There was this girl, she has  a name, I just don’t call her by it. She’s only known as That Fucking Girl, or TFG for short. We hit it off right away. She laughed at all my dick jokes and came back with some of her own. So thought I was funny and charming. I thought, “Hey, cute girl that likes me!”, because she was cute. She was downright hot. I know this because she sent me pictures. That and I’d seen her on webcam. I wondered why she seemed to like me so much.

I tried not to think about it too much. Something about  looking at a horses mouth. But I still wondered. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t think I have redeeming qualities. I know I can be funny and even charming, but there’s a million other guys who possess those qualities. Why me? I don’t understand it. I suppose that’s one of the problems I have with women. I believe I bring a lot to the table, but I don’t think it’s enough.

Of course I don’t talk to girls about this. And I didn’t tell her either. We made plans. We agreed to hang out, she even gave me her number. I don’t remember what we were gonna do, but I do remember  being really excited about it. I remember waking up and shouting, “It’s game time!”  in my head like a roided up football player.I texted her, figuring she’d respond with a, “See you tonight!” An hour passed, “She’s probably busy.”. Two hours, “I really hope she responds. Probably still busy.” Three. Four. Five. Six, “I don’t think this is happening.” said the little voice in my head. And it didn’t. I didn’t hear from her until two days later when she apologized about flaking and explained that she was sick the whole day. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Partly because I really liked her, but mostly because I’m desperate.

I didn’t bring up the subject of meeting up again for a while. I don’t know why, but I felt that if I asked again  I would seem desperate. So we kept talking about nothing in particular. Sometimes  we would talk for hours and sometimes she’d talk about going places with me. Like the nudist beach. I didn’t understand why she talked like that and never made an effort to meet up. After a month or so, I finally decided to try and ask her out again. She said sure, but she might have a study group that day, so I should text her to confirm. That was the last time I heard from her. I texted her like she asked, but she never responded. She went online a few times, but she ignored my messages. I still don’t know what her deal was, but I have a theory.

I think she really did like me. But talking to someone online isn’t the same thing as real life. She found me funny and charming, but when the time came to actually meeting me she didn’t know if she could handle it. She didn’t know how she would react. The thought of the tubes and chair scared her too much.

Maybe I’m a huge pussy for making excuses for her, but I can understand her position. I wouldn’t go on a date myself either. And that’s really the problem isn’t it? How can I expect someone to go out with me if I don’t think I’m worth going out with? Still though, fuck that fucking girl.

Since Amber was flying home that day. we had to ask my mom to come up the night before my last final This didn’t help my case at all. “See? You need me. This is why you need to move back!” I just bit my tongue. We decided to drive home after my final. As we drove away I couldn’t shake this fear that I wouldn’t come back.

I knew it was going to be a tough month. Everyone was going to pressure me to stay home and I needed stay focused.

There was a lot of tension in the house and we would fight a lot. UCLA was always in the back of our minds and it hung over every conversation we had. I decided to talk to my mom to try to clear the air

“Okay mom, I need to know how much you can help me. Not how much you’re want to help me, because I know you want to help me with everything, but how much you can help me.”

She took a big sigh and composed herself, “Nothing, I can’t help you anymore. I can’t keep driving up there every time a nurse calls in or Amber needs a break. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“Okay.” Obviously that was going to make it harder, but that’s the answer I expected.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Your brother needs me too. He’s in so much pain and he’s in such a bad place. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong and he’s just given up. The other day I laid with him crying because he told he can’t go on anymore, he wants to die. And you know what? I want to die with him. Every night I lay down and ask God to just kill me. I pray for a heart attack just so I can have peace.”

I didn’t say anything because… what the hell do you say that? I looked at her with pity and disgust. How dare she be so weak? I’d through hell for three months and was willing to go back and SHE was the one that wanted to die? And my brother… what the fuck is wrong with him. We have the same god forsaken disease and he wants to kill himself because of a little pain? I was risking my life trying to go after what I want and he’s sitting at home wallowing in self pity? It made me want to puke.They were both so weak, I had to help them.

I knew what I had to do and I hated them for it. I hated myself for not resisting. For feeling like I needed to come in and be fucking Superman. Maybe deep down I did want to stay. Maybe I was the one being weak. I’ve tried to answer that question for the past few months. Maybe I just used that as an excuse. I honestly don’t know anymore. All I know is that I failed myself.

I told her a few days later. She was so happy, she hugged and kissed me and said thank you. She told the family over Christmas dinner and they clapped and cheered. They all told me that I made right decision. Everyone was happy. Everyone except me.

Post Script:

I had to tell Amber. She understood , but was freaked out. I made sure she had time to find a place to live and enough money until she found a job. There wasn’t a grand good bye, I didn’t want one. I wanted to forget everything about UCLA, it hurt too much. But I couldn’t. I thought about it every day… I still do. It pops up in news articles, TV shows… I can’t escape it.

Sometimes I go to sleep at night thinking about it and I start to cry. I have dreams where I’m back there and I feel so happy. Everything is going right, I have friends and girls like me. Then I wake up in my room, sad and disappointed.

I don’t really have a good relationship with my mom. She tries to talk to me, but I don’t want to. I can hardly look her in the eye when she tells me she loves me. She wants to say it back, but I can’t. I don’t think I do. She says she feels like she doesn’t have a son anymore and I think she’s right. Her son died in December when she asked him to sacrifice his ambitions for the family. All that’s left is a broken and disillusioned soul.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive them until I find a way to forgive with myself. The only way that’ll happen is if I go back and finish what I started. I guess I’m back to square one.

 Dear son, you have no idea how proud we are of you. We know that you’ve worked hard to get where you are. But sometimes we have to accept our limitations, I know that’s never easy for you. There’s no shame in moving back home. If you move back, we can help you. What if you lose your court case and they cut your hours? We can’t keep driving up there, especially with the condition your brother is in. He’s is in so much pain since his surgery. He’s depressed, he doesn’t do anything. The stress of you being there, the court case and him being this way is too much. Please think about coming home. It would be easier for all of us.

Love,
Mom

I showed Amber the email, “What are you gonna do?” She said.

“I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

“Should I look for another job?”

“I think so, just in case.”

I didn’t know anymore. Was I being selfish? At what point do I sacrifice everything I’ve wanted for someone else? It didn’t seem fair. I knew that if I did go home I would resent them forever. I’d hate them forever. I’d hate them for guilt tripping me and not being in my corner. But I knew that if something happened to my brother I’d never forgive myself for not trying to help. I was torn. I knew what the right decision was, but I didn’t know if I could deal with the consequences I thought about it day and night. I withdrew from everything and lived inside my head.

“Raul, have you decided yet? Because I need to know if I’m gonna have a place to live when I come back from Chicago.”

“Yeah, I have”

Dear Mom and Dad, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I want you to know it wasn’t an easy decision and you won’t understand it. But I have to stay at UCLA. It’s just something I have to do. I’ll try my best to make everything easier on everyone. I’ll hire a second person with my financial aid so you won’t have to come up anymore. I’ll do everything I can to stay here.

“Hey, Michelle.” I said wearily, a call from the office was never good. It was almost always because a nurse wasn’t coming or that a nurse was quitting. At that point, we had gone through about 13 nurses., so they knew me well.

“Hey Raul, how are you? I heard that you fired Kumba last night.”

“No, that’s not what happened. What happened was that we confronted her about sleeping and she didn’t like it. She asked me if I wanted her to leave and I said no, but she just kept asking over and over.

It was pretty clear she didn’t want to be there, so I finally said, okay fine. She put us in a really awkward position and it just wasn’t fair.”

“Well, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I’m just wondering, what kind of repercussions are there for the nurses that fall asleep?” There was silence on the other end, I could hear her thinking.

“Well… I can’t tell you because that’s covered under employee confidentiality.” I wanted to call her on her bullshit, but she kept talking, “I’m actually calling to tell you that we’re running out of resources to staff your case… we’re going have to get you another agency.”

“Are you serious?” I was weary and already had enough shit on my plate, not to mention finals were coming up. I probably should have been more professional and not blurted that out.

“Yes. We just can’t keep staffing weekend nights when you keep sending them away. “ I wanted to reach through the phone and punch her in her big fat face. To reach through and choke her incompetent ass.

“Well, we keep sending them away because they fall asleep on the job.” There was more I wanted to say, but I still needed them.

“That’s why I want to switch you to another company that has the resources to provide you with the care you need.”

She wasn’t leaving me much choice, “Okay… how would this work?”

“Well, I’ve already been talking to another agency and they’re willing to take your case, so there would be no be no break in your case. “

“What about the nurses I have right now?”

“Well, they’d have to get hired by the agency.”

“How long would that take?”

“About two weeks, but they’ll provide nurses in the mean time.”

“Okay, so you’re saying that with two weeks left in the semester, you want us to train all new nurses… during finals, but just for two weeks?” Clearly she had no idea what it takes to train someone new. That, at minimum, it takes a week for a nurse to get used to me and another week for me to trust them enough to go out with them. That means Amber going to school with us… and that wasn’t happening with both of us slammed with school.

“No, we can’t do that.” There was silence on the other end, “Amber and I both have finals we can’t train temporary nurses “

“Well, we just don’t know if we can staff you on the weekend nights.”

“Okay look, we don’t need to cover this weekend because I’m going home for thanksgiving and then there’s one weekend after that and I go home for christmas. So if we can just find one nurse for that weekend, we’re set Then we can just switch companies over break.” She thought about this for a minute, “Okay, we can do that.” It was a small victory. They had fucked up so many times that we probably should have switched anyway. They still didn’t have my plan of care right, if I wasn’t able to communicate and the nurses followed the plan of care I’d be in huge trouble.

After the call Corie said that she would work that weekend if they couldn’t find anyone. so we were set. Now I just needed to worry about thanksgiving.

I wasn’t excited about going home. While my mom had been very supportive in terms of driving up whenever I needed her, she didn’t want me there and neither did anyone else. I knew that all I’d hear about was how I should come home after the semester finished. How I could go to UCSD and they’d help me live in the dorms there. Never mind that the deadline to transfer had passed. They wanted me close to them. Not as much for my safety, but for their own peace of mind.

And that was what exactly what thanksgiving was like. Constant comments about how wasn’t it much better at home? I didn’t say anything, but I did miss it. It was comfortable  and safe. I didn’t have to worry about incompetent nurses falling asleep. But I also knew that I had to move on to the next part of my life, home didn’t work for me anymore. But as soon as I was back in my dorm room that staying wouldn’t be easy. That my family wouldn’t make it easy, they’d try their damndest to get me home. I had to stay strong, but I wasn’t sure if I could.

The very first day in the dorm, she pulled Amber aside and, unbeknownst to me, told her that if anything to me she would come after her.if anything happened to me.

This made Amber scared, and she kept her informed of everything that was going on. I didn’t want to tell her how much the nurses sucked or how much it drained me. I didn’t answer her when she asked me how things were going because I knew she would worry. But she would just ask Amber and hear about from her.

She would hear about how Amber was more and more stressed. How I almost never went to class and barely went out. I was depressed and I missed home. I missed feeling safe with my nurses. I missed my family.

I remember getting a letter in the mail from my cousin. It was hand written and it said how much he missed me and how proud he was of me. I broke down and wept because I knew I couldn’t go back. I’d never forgive myself.

I felt like I’d worked so hard to get there that I just had to see it through. I couldn’t go back to the past. I knew I was romanticizing it, that I wasn’t happy at home. But it wasn’t easy

One morning, when Corie was late for the millionth time, Amber turned to me and said, “I can’t keep doing this. It needs to get better because this is just too much.”

“I know” I said. I knew she was close to her breaking point and I didn’t blame her.

Around the same time, my family started pressuring me to move back home. My mom would tell me how much it stressed her out, how my brother wasn’t doing well and was on heavy duty painkillers. My dad told me how much it hurt my mom, how the stress was making her sick. My sister told me how selfish I was being. That I needed to think about them and not me. That everyone had to make sacrifices.

I got so sick of it that I started to ignore them. I isolated myself in my room, I felt alone. I was alone and I was the only one looking out for what I wanted. I’d never felt that before. I knew intellectually that that’s how life is, but I’d never actually experienced it. And that feeling of complete isolation never went away.

I think that was when I grew up. When I finally realized that I was the only one looking out for myself. That everyone else were just pieces on a board, and that I was the only one that could decide the outcome of the game

The very first day nurse we had was Chola. Chola was an older Nigerian lady with a very quiet disposition and frazzled hair. She was short and always had what can best be described as a fuchi face. Like someone perpetually farted on it. She walked slowly and hunched over, she was the essence of old. Despite all of that, she seemed like she knew what she was doing and that’s all we really wanted. So, on the first Friday of the first week, me and Amber were on our own for the first time. My mom had gone home for a couple of days in order to be with my brother for his birthday. I wanted to buy some UCLA swag for my family and I figured walking down to campus be good training for the nurse, since that’s what we would be doing every day.

Now, if you don’t know the UCLA campus, the whole thing is built on huge hill. The dorms are located at the top of the hill, everything else is at the bottom. It’s also pretty fucking steep. Like, “go too fast and you will die” kind of steep. Kind of ironic that I’ve avoided hills for most of my life and now I lived on one. The campus store was about a 10 minute walk downhill from my room for a normal person. That’s 20 minutes for me on a good day. For most people, going uphill is harder than going downhill. But for me, it’s the opposite. Going downhill is harder because gravity makes me slide down on my chair. Add in sidewalk bumps and frequent braking and you end up with me needing to be repositioned quite often. That means lots of stopping and going. And with the gradually increasingly steep slope, getting to the campus store is an exercise in patience and endurance. As we were soon to find out, our fine maiden had neither.

It started about halfway down the hill, when her face began to gradually scrunch into something resembling a puckered up asshole. She wasn’t saying anything yet, but you could tell she wasn’t happy by her huffing and puffing that she was not enjoying herself. Now, when I’m in my chair, I’m always in some kind of pain or discomfort. If it’s not my leg falling asleep or my back hurtling then it’s trouble breathing or sitting on my balls. So I don’t have a lot of sympathy for healthy people that start complaining about a little bit of walking.

“My feet hurt.” she said.

“We’re almost there.”We were on our way back up the hill, granted, it’s a really steep hill, but we had taken a fifteen minute break before hiking back up. Whatever, I thought, she’s just old. But the more we climbed up the hill, the more irritating she became. My feet this, my feet that. By the time we got back to our dorm she was clamoring for a break, “I need to sit down for a few minutes or I won’t make it” she said. So we let her rest in the lounge while Amber and I got lunch at the cafeteria.

“How is she gonna walk you to school everyday if she gets this tired every time?” Amber asked.

“I don’t know, but the fact that I have more stamina than my nurse scares me a little bit.”

When we came back from the cafeteria she was in the lounge with her shoes off and her feet up on the couch. That was her last day with us. Not because I fired her, no. The story we got from the agency was that she broke her foot when a patient ran her over. It wasn’t me, I swear.

“Peace. Peace.” No response. Her chin was firmly planted on her chest. “Peeeeaaace. Peace… PEACE!” It didn’t matter how much I called her, she was dreaming of her sweet Nigerian prince. My mom eventually woke up and had to lightly nudge her awake. She probably just had had a tough day… hopefully.

***

I woke up at 7 am with that feeling you get as your rushing down a rollercoaster. My mind raced as we walked around the dorms, all the buildings looked so tall and foreign. There were random people walking around that I’d never seen. It was like… communal living. With people you don’t know. And stairs! Humongous staircases of death.

Back home I had awesome nurses. They knew me and, more importantly, I trusted them. I’d learned through my experiences that there are some seriously stupid nurses there. All it would take was one nurse that didn’t know what they were doing for me to go the way of the dodo. And this day nurse that the agency had sent, I had no way of knowing if she was good at her job until I was actually in a life and death situation.

And, as we were driving around Westwood, looking for a place to eat, I felt the despair migrate from my gut to my chest and form a lump in my throat along with a hot, wet sensation in my eyes. I wanted to scream. What the hell had I gotten myself into? I was so far away from home. I was putting my life in the hands of nurses I didn’t know and a 23 year old girl whom I’d known for five months. What the fuck am I doing? I thought.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze. Shopping for things I needed. Shower curtains, coat hangers… what did it matter? I didn’t belong there, I didn’t feel like a 20 year old college student. I’ve never quite felt like people my age. They don’t have trouble communicating with people, it doesn’t take two people to get them in and out of bed and they aren’t tied to battery life They can go anywhere whenever they want and not have to worry about whether they’re sufficiently prepared if they have an emergency. No matter what, I’ll never be able to have a life like theirs. And yet, here I was, foolishly trying.

That night I sat in my bed staring at the wall. It was beige and bare.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Asked Amber.

“What do you mean?” I was trying to avoid the question.

“You haven’t been yourself today. You’ve barely said a word.”

“I know.”

“So… what’s wrong?”

I guess I couldn’t avoid it anymore, “I’ve been kinda having a breakdown.”

She thought for a second, “Are you regretting your decision?” she asked, looking worried.

“No. It’s just… scary.”

“I know. We’re both far away from home and in shock right now. I guess we’re just going to figure it out together.”

“I guess so…”

She said together, but I knew I was alone. If it were up to my family I would’ve stayed in San Diego and, while Amber was great, it’s not like she was there out of kindness of her heart. She was going to go to grad school for a masters in psychology and was getting free rent plus a salarie. I was the only one with my best interests in mind, which I guess is just part of life. I hadn’t realized that until then. The only way this was gonna work was if I made it work. I had bet on me and, for the first time in my life, was doubting myself.

“Wow, you have a lot of stuff.” my mom was watching Amber put her things in the “closet”, which was really a nook with a door.

“I wouldn’t talk if I were you, Ms Walk-in-Closet.” Amber said half jokingly.

“Well, that’s my house and I’ve earned it.” my mom didn’t like the joke.

Things had gotten off to an awesome start. We were all in shock over how much smaller the room was compared to my room. There was no way we’d be able to fit all of our stuff in there. I don’t mean clothes either, my entire wardrobe consists of seven shirts, four pairs of pants and one pair of shorts. What took up the most space were all my medical supplies. That plus all of Amber’s things meant that we would have to fit both our libes into something not much bigger than most hotel rooms.

Everyone was silent as they unpacked The only time they looked at each other when they passed by each other as they shuttled in and out of the room. And even then, it was only for a second. All I could do was sit awkwardly as the two people I needed the most were already fighting.

“I need to get some stuff from my car.” That was code for ‘I need to get the fuck outta here before I kill someone;.

No one said a thing as Amber walked and no one said anything afterwards either. They just kept on doing whatever they were doing.

“Where’s Amber?” I asked innocently, trying to assess the situation.

“She’s outside pouting somewhere.” said my mom.

I had originally posted a job listing for a caregiver on craigslist and Amber had come out to interview all the way from Chicago to interview. She had completely relocated from Chicago to San Diego and then to LA. At first, she was staying with a friend, but, when that fell through, we let her stay with us. Partly because I didn’t want her to have to go back to Chicago and partly because I thought she would be better prepared once we were without my parents. There was always a lot of tension between her and my parents. I think they felt like she was the one taking their boy away and that was all coming to the surface .

“You need to understand, she moved halfway across the country and she’s probably in shock right now This is a much smaller living space than we’re both used to. Give her some slack.” She thought about this for a few seconds.

“She works for you, don’t forget that. She barely helped the nurses when she was at the house and you never let us say anything because you were too afraid she’d leave. Now I’m afraid she’s going to be the same way.” Amber came back in, “I’m going to get something to eat.” said my mom. Sometimes I think she’s really immature. Nevertheless, I needed her help. She was gonna help us train the nurses and get me settled. Amber was gonna be my lifeline there and she had to get along with her. Why? I don’t know. My mom has this weird power. She has the ability to make everyone feel like they have to answer to her when they really shouldn’t. And she was the one that had convinced my dad to support me financially. She had the power, whether she knew it or not.

“Hey Amber, we need to talk.”

“Yeah. We do.” She sat down next to me.

I hate heart to heart talks, they make me feel naked. I sighed, “My mom feels like you weren’t doing enough back home and she feels like you’re…” don’t say lazy, don’t say lazy, don’t say lazy, “Like you won’t do enough here. And she’s… She has trouble letting go. She’s taken care of me my whole life and now she won’t and she doesn’t know how to deal with it. She doesn’t know how to properly deal with her emotions, so she just freaks out. Just keep that in mind.”

She thought for a second, “I understand, but you guys need to see it from my perspective. I moved half way across the country and left everyone I know. Everything I own is in my car right now and I have no idea how it’s gonna fit here. When I got here I thought ‘I could just drive back to Chicago and end this whole crazy part of my life right now’. I’m scared, your whole life is going to be in my hands and I’m not completely sure what’s expected of me.”

What kind of clusterfuck had I gotten myself into? Fuckin’ women and their feelings. “Okay, this what we’re gonna do, my mom’s gonna come in and she’s gonna say her piece and then you’ll say yours and we’ll go from there, alright?”

And that’s what we did. Amber explained how she felt so lonely because she didn’t know anyone. How she fit her whole life in the back of her car and she started to cry. She understood all this when she took the job, but it hadn’t really hit her until now. And that she wasn’t outside pouting, she just wanted to remove herself from a bad situation before it got worse. Then my mom talked about how she was so scared to let me go. How she just wanted for me to be happy, then she started to cry and they stood up and hugged each other. I should go into politics, no one would ever fight anymore.

They went to go get some more stuff out of the car while my dad stayed with me, it was his turn to talk. “I just want you to know how proud I am. No one in this has family has ever gotten into a school this good. You have cousins that, despite being physically fine, don’t have the drive or brains to get into a school like this or even move out of their house. Every time one of your aunts or uncles asks me how you’re doing, I tell them you’re going to UCLA and they’re always surprised. You have no idea how many people you inspire. Your mom and I will always be there for you and you’ll always be my bruin.” He hugged me and kissed me on the forehead. I just stared blankly and nodded.

He had never opened up to me that way. He always kept to himself and never ever told anyone about his feelings. I had to be doing something right for him to talk like that.

Maybe this wasn’t a such clusterfuck after all…

All my life I’ve always managed to find flaws in other people, in whole groups. They’re too dumb, too annoying, too boring, too douchey, always too something. It doesn’t matter that they’re not my friends because I’m too good for them anyway. Did you hear that joke that guy just told? Everyone is laughing … it was a stupid joke, they’re stupid. But they don’t know I’m there. At least that’s how most of them act. And I understand they’re not trying to be malicious, they probably feel as awkward as I do. But I’d be lying if there isn’t some part of me that resents all of them for making me feel so left out. Obviously it’s not their fault. It’s not like everyone got together and decided to ostracize me. It’s just people’s fear of the unknown and, the way I figure it, there’s only one way to fix it.

There’s two kinds of… differents: The special and the “special”. The special people that drop out of Harvard and create billion dollar websites. And the people that are somehow handicapped, either mentally or physically. The difference between the two groups is that one is admired while the other is pitied. However, they’re not mutually exclusive.

That’s what I’ve been working towards all my life. To be someone that people look up to. Not because I’ve “overcome adversity” or some bullshit like that, everyone does that at some point in their life. But because my accomplishments are remarkable even without the added obstacles. And then, maybe then, people won’t be afraid to come up to me and say, “Hi” Maybe then they’ll include me in their group. And maybe then I won’t feel like such a lonely freak.

I remember back in middle school, before the ventilator and feeding tube, me and my friends would walk home from school everyday. It was a short walk, a little more than 15 minutes. We would joke and make fun of fun each other and say words our parents would never let us say. There used to be a mailbox that was put right in the middle of the sidewalk. In order for me to get past it, I had to get dangerously close to the edge. One of my friends would always have to stand next to me to make sure I didn’t drive off the sidewalk. Nevertheless, it was always the highlight of my day; Because, for that brief period of time, I actually felt like a normal kid.

One day, I got annoyed with my friends because they were taking too long. So I, being the cautious individual that I am, decided to walk home by myself. It seemed like a good idea at the time and, for about 15 minutes, it was. I felt empowered and independent. I was alone for the first time in my life, and it made feel more normal than ever. And then I saw it, the mailbox. It stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, taunting me. I knew I could make it through, but there was also a chance that I’d end up face first on the pavement with no around to help. So I had a choice: Go back to my friends or challenge the mailbox. It wasn’t a hard choice in my mind, I was never one to let obstacles stand in my way. I took a deep breath, clenched my joystick and pressed forward. I imagined myself lying on the street, helpless, with cars whizzing by my head. I was afraid, but the thought of running back to my friends scared me more. I got dangerously close to the edge, but managed to make it through. I smiled triumphantly and made it home safely.

I’ve always wanted to be like everyone else. Or at least to be as successful. I’ve fought all my life to be as independent as possible and to have a chance at a normal life. It hasn’t been easy. There’s always been mailboxes in front of me, but I’ve prided myself on meeting and tackling them with everything I have. I want to be independent, but I need 24 hour care in order for me to do that. I don’t want to rely on my parents for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be forced into a nursing home because that’s where people go to die and, with all due respect your honor, I’ve only begun living. Please your honor, give me the chance to be successful and I promise you that you won’t be disappointed.

If any of you know anyone that might be able to help me get this story out there, I’d appreciate it if you linked them to this and have them email me.

P.S. I know this isn’t the post you guys want. I’m still working on it.